Jinx’s call sliced through the afternoon skies, causing the Princeling to give pause, frozen in the motion of stepping as his head rose so he could look in the direction his mother’s guardian’s call had risen from. He had taken to stalking the borders, checking upon the few talismans he had gotten around to making to make sure they hadn’t been moved or anything by any of the “real” Wardens that walked along the scent borders. This was a partial truth. He was also anticipating (in reality it was more like hoping) Bones would make another appearance - not that he was any more prepared for her presence as he had been last time. The truth was: Ira was a horrible boyfriend (then again he was just a horrible creature in general so it shouldn’t have been surprising). Admittedly, she could do so much better than him, not that Ira would ever put the suggestion in his girl’s (even thinking of her such put those funny little flutters in his stomach) head because he was much too selfish for that. Giving one last, forlorn look towards the stretch of lands beyond the borders knowing that somewhere out there Bones was lingering - though likely she was back at the Creek - but there were more pressing matters at hand than pining like a love-sick puppy for Bones.

Shaking it off, Ira made haste to the place where Jinx’s call had originated from, and slowed upon his approach of it, sharp, fierce frosted crystalline blue eyes looking to the male first, assessing him, and then to the erratically marked female, entering just as the weirdly colored female that stank of Lecter (Ira made a tiny attempt to hide his revulsion) spoke to Jinx calling her Miss. He scoffed silently at that. Jinx was no miss. She was a Queen, magnificent and beautiful. Brazenly, Ira broke the boundaries (if indeed any had been placed upon him) that separated him from Jinx of Superior and Subordinate and approached her as her son Princeling, licking her chin that was partially subordinate but mostly affectionate.

There was no mistake of Ira’s loyalties to Jinx, and certainly no misgivings of her superiority over him - as it was she was the only wolf he deigned to listen too. It was only after greeting her silently that that Princeling retreated slightly to her left, favoring the shadows but sticking close to Jinx as he had always done since she had first taken him under her wing.

He had not belonged to Silvertip Mountain long, but felt, from his brief meeting with their leader, Jinx, that he had made the right choice in allowing himself to be recruited to their ranks. Originally, if Ragnar had founded a pack in these posh summer lands the dark Viking, and half brother of the Lothbrok male would have joined there but seeing as how Ragnar did not lead there was no sense in putting himself under someone who would live up to his expectations as far as leadership went. They were measurably high given how he watched Váli run Odinn’s Cove like some cheap knockoff of Ragnar. Dagrún left the Cove before he had to witness any more damage being done under the idiotic Váli’s rule. Not to mention, he did not think he made a very good impression on Ragnar’s newest wife. Not that, mind Dagrún expected her to stay if only because he did not believe Ragnar had changed his ways. Only, there was a small part that doubted his own confidence in that matter that wondered what it would be like to let go of his own libertine ways in exchange for one woman to bear him many sons.

The call had jarred the dark Viking out of his daydreaming, and a slow, deliberate breath was taken. They were being rallied, it seemed, and in a timely manner Dagrún appeared upon the scene, unsurprised to find other wolves there. Showing Jinx the proper submission required of him, he stood in the loose gathering, steel colored eyes flitting between the wolves that had gathered so far, watching them as strangers that were now fellow comrades though the savage man could not yet let such a hollow assurance soothe his desire to stick to himself.

Lecter arrived after some of the others had gathered, watching with a carefully neutral expression upon his face as they greeted her. Ira's brazen approach caused an inner ember of anger to kindle, but it was soon snuffed as he drew himself up and closed the gap between himself and Jinx. He met her eyes without fear, but extended his muzzle in a show of respect, though his tongue lingered upon her chin longer than necessary.

Turning, he took up a position on the outskirts of the meeting: usual for the grizzled male, and licked new blood from his jaws as he awaited the words of his lover.

Lecter scoffed at the idea of a wolf who would work so closely with poisons, but had not commented on the matter. Insofar as Tyrande did not come to him with her notions, or intend to exhaust his own supplies, he did not care what she did. The odd wolfess was loyal to Jinx, and her role mattered little aside from that, though he did let a long stare linger on Tyrande before his attention returned to his lover.

Jinx, with careful tact, re-outlined her intentions for Silvertip, and Lecter listened. He would have liked to hear her plans for punishment, but perhaps she merely meant for whatever befell those who did not listen to be organically occurring.

Ira remained silent as Jinx spoke, even as a few others threw in their own comments or questions. He knew that wolves were not to be any where remotely near their borders - it had been for this reason alone that he had warned Bones against it. The Princeling had displayed responsibility in warning his girlfriend from it, taking Jinx’s rules to his heart and obeying them because she asked him too; and because he was just as much a part of Silvertip as anyone else here. He did not know many of these wolves, these strangers he called pack mates but that mostly because he was focusing on being wrapped up in his own little world with Bones. Ira barely spared any of them any more than a passing glance, Jinx holding the bulk of his attention. He carefully cataloged the names or descriptions Jinx offered in regards to the wolves who, for whatever reason, were on what he mentally called the “watch list”. The name of Bazi - though of course Ira was not sure who she was, having must have joined the Creek after Jinx, him and the few others had left. Following his previous examples, the insolent boy remained silent still.

Likewise, the shaman was silent as Jinx spoke. For Xi'nuata, or Raheerah, or the little heathen Bazi, it would be death to place their feet upon such sacred ground as this. Dragon though he might be, Lecter did not fear the black dog, and Xi'nuata could be compelled not to aid Raheerah through threat to their unborn. Bazi was fleet of foot, but her insectine dalliances around Silvertip were an annoyance to their fierce leader, and she would not forever have dumb luck upon her side.

Tyrande did not rate high enough in Lecter's thoughts for him to think her a rival, merely an irritation, but she had shown no interest thus far in challenging him for the rank of healer. His confidence that he would rise above her in such a petty squabble secured his attention to Jinx, and he felt a pang of longing for her rise in his breast, close as she was to him.